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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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BY 



&EDR&E HENRY CURTIS, 






NEW YORK: 



THOMAS KELLY, Publisher, 
358 and 360 Broome St. 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, by 

George Henry Curtis, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 



* PRELUDE*- 



;F harmony to thought and utterance cling 

In mildest measure through my simple lines ; 
If out of life's drear discords some designs 
Of heavenly concords may appear, — then sing, 
Thou lover of thy race, while on the wing 

Of faith thou soarest far away from earth, 
Where sounds of welcome cheer thy newer birth 
With strains of joy beyond thy high imagining ! 

Yet leave us not for aye ! Still let us hear 

New words of gladness with an ampler tone ; 
Reveal again the passion all thine own ! 

That highest hope may banish all our fear, 

A smile of ecstasy chase every tear, 

While all dark birds of omen hence have flown. 



-^CONTENTS*- 



Marie Brenner, Child of Song, ----- 9 
Marie Brenner, Prima Donna, ----- 26 



SCENES FROM REAL LIFE. 



Ad Fratrem, 89 

A Hindoo Artist, - - - - - - -119 

Ad Filiam, --------- 151 

A Summer Day on the Hudson, ----- 167 

A Mid Century Musical Survey, - - - - 175 

Christmas Tide, - - - - - - - -57 

Childhood Memories, ------- 97 

Freemen, Kise !-------- 77 

Farewell to Home, ------- 185 

Julian and Constantius, - - - - - -51 

Katterskill, - - - - - - - -111 

Maria and Thalia, -___--- 199 
O Day of Loving Memories, 81 

On Hearing Four Vocalists, 85 



PAGE- 

Ode to Washington M. Smith, ----- 101 

O Bright be the Thought, ----- 189 

Sunset at Bellevue, ------- 67 

Sires of 'Seventy-six, - ------ 71 

The Two Angels, ------- 63 

To Katie, --------- 93 

The Soprano, -------- 123 

To Ariel, --------- 127 

To Josephine, -------- 135 

Tell Me, Dearest, ------- 139 

The Chosen One, ____--- 143 

The Confident American, - - - - - - 159 

The Young Crusader, ------- 193 

Upon the Delaware, ------- 115 

What My Teacher is to Me, - 105 

Were I the Morning, ------- 131 

With Thee, - 147 



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CHILD OF SONG. 



" If music and sweet poetry agree, 
As they must needs, the sister and the brother, 

Then must the ove he great 'twixt thee and me, 
Because thou lovest the one, and I the other. 

Downland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch 
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense : 

Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such 
As passing all conceit, needs no defense. 

Thou lovest to hear the sweet melodious sound, 
That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes : 

A nd I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd, 
When as himself to singing he betakes. 

One god is god of both, as poets feign : 

One knight loves both, and both in thee remain." 

—William Shakespeare. 



CANTO FIRST. 



^Aj^HEBE mountains blue in the far distance lie, 
*$jfl$ And shining streamlets in their gladness run ; 

Where quiet upland lakelets brightly vie 
f^? With the soft shimmering of the summer sun 
Where, near the peaceful hamlets, one by one, 
A long, smooth river in its beauty flows, 
Stands Annaville : there pause with me, nor shun 
The modest flower that in yon garden grows, 
Sweet plant that all do love, a pure and budding rose. 

[9] 



II. 



She was the youngest of a flock of three, 
Charles, Margaret and Marie Brenner nam'd, 
Who from a pious father trustingly, 
Protection and a lov'd example claim'd. 
No name in Annaville was less defam'd 
Than good Elias Brenner's, borne from youth ; 
Of no base circumvention e'er ashamed, 
He lov'd and fear'd his God, and spoke the truth 
A just and honest man, too rarely seen, in sooth. 



in. 

The partner of his youth, lov'd evermore, 
And dearer as the mother of the three, 
Rebecca Brenner smiled, and softly o'er 
Each feature shone a sunny memory. ' 
Replete with health, from bitter envy free, 
She joy'd to make each passing day but yield 
Its own priz'd quota of life's goodly glee, 
That time's brief work be cheer'd, in future field, 
By peace, while shelter'd still by faith, the heav'nly shield. 



IV. 

The sun, the mount, the lakelet and the stream 
Make seemly setting for the fertile vale : 
And round the villa fairest flow r ers, I deem, 
Bend gracefully beneath each gentle gale. 
No rare exotic there can aught avail 
To shade the lily in her white repose ; 
Nor bid the lovely lilac in her purple pale, 
Nor hide the beauty of the queenly rose : 
And standing sentry over all, the tall elm grows. 

[10] 



V. 

Like fairy bells the honeysuckles hung 
Around the pillars in a trellis'd woof ; 
And with the small leav'd, red flower' d cypress flung 
Their fragrance from the broad piazza's roof. 
The sweet syringa stood not far aloof, 
Amid parterres of pinks and violets ; 
The jessamine and heliotrope gave proof 
Of careful culture : so, the heart that sets 
Some store of love on flowers, life's loveliest lesson gets. 



VI. 

O barren else had been the portico, 
And sill and lintel too severely straight ; 
The cornice and the lengthen'd line below 
To tasteful eye had shar'd no finer fate. 
But now, around, from door to garden gate, 
And o'er the double-storied villa there, 
The small tree, evergreen, and flower ornate 
Their varied, leafy line of beauty bear, 
And all are fair and fresh by daily toil and care. 



VII. 

Nor were choice fruit and esculent forgot, 
As stretching from the villa's rear were seen 
The apple, cherry, plum and apricot 
In dainty dalliance with the pear so green. 
And toward the barn, potato, beet and bean 
In wide rows grew beside the waving corn ; 
Light lettuce and the pea had place between 
The parsley delicate, of wild weeds shorn, 
And rich, red currants which the encircling fence adorn. 

Hi] 



VIII. 

Beneath the elm that sentry stood o'er all, 
A living spring of water pure and cold 
There gleam'd to gladden, when midsummer's call 
Straight to its bubbling brink drew young and old. 
At eve his tender tale the robin told, 
Perch'd on a pendent branch, and fitly plum'd ; 
His black tiara and his breast of gold 
Convulsive shook, — his eyes shot fire, — consum'd 
With love's sweet agonies, he tirelesslv resum'd. 



IX. 

Delighted audience had this evening song, 
As sang this robin with a lover's glee ; 
The heart and ear of one who listen'd long, 
And oft before had heard his minstrelsy. 
All pleasant sounds in nature soothingly 
Sent gladness glowing to her secret soul ; 
Wild waterfall, the plaintive pine, and bird and bee 
To Marie like enchanted voices stole : 
While air, apt angel harp, breath'd softly through the whole. 



x. 

A robust figure of a middling hight, 
With violet eyes and wavy dark brown hair ; 
A face that in repose, to human sight 
Gave little token of the spirit there ; 
But lit by love, was more than passing fair : 
A mind unconscious of its slumb'ring power ; 
A will that needed little to declare 
Its self-reliance in the darkest hour : 
Were Nature's gifts to Marie, rich in her rare dower 

[12] 



XI. 

One precious gift beside made glad her youth, 
A voice so purely ton'd, and high and clear, 
You would have deem'd that, strong in health and truth, 
Its owner lov'd its echo best to hear. 
O sweetest sound on earth and ever dear, 
The voice of mother or of maiden mild ! 
In joy or sorrow let it still be near 
To cheer and comfort Nature's lonely child, 
Restoring sunny summer for each winter wild. 



XII. 

'Twas Saturday night, — the robin's tale of love 
Had ceased. The sun had set, and in the west 
His red and purple rays shot far above 
The horizon and the distant mount's bold crest. 
The church spire pointed to the home where blest 
And happy souls sing safely evermore ; 
And all around prefigur'd the calm rest 
The Christian longs for when his days are o'er. 
And surely, this frail life needs all that faith can store. 



XIII. 

Now toward the church the youthful choir repair, 
And father Brenner, and his daughter too ; 
The summer evening sounds and summer air 
Are winsome as a lover's words to woo. 
" O father, seem these sunsets not to you 
Like pictures, haply, of those realms on high, 
Where God will place in mansions ever new 
The cherish'd children of His charity, 
Redeem'd by Christ, made pure for heav'n's sanctity ? " 

[13] 



XIV. 

" I think that tones and colors, daughter dear, 
May in themselves be beautiful. The test 
Of their true worth lies in the hope sincere 
Which they inspire in any human breast, 
Be what is seen, or heard, or felt, confess'd 
In Nature or in Art ; and they are right 
Who view these scenes serene so mildly drest 
In hues of heaven, as preludes to the sight 
Of that abode of endless happiness and light." 



xv. 

Ascending the plateau where stands the pile 
Devoted to the service of Heav'n's King ; 
Pure, filial and paternal words beguile 
Their way while willing wisdom's ways to sing. 
It is a neat nor unsymmetric thing, 
This rural Gothic church with steeple high ; 
Its founders look'd with fond imagining 
On altar, organ, and on sacristy, 
And thought them all too poor for God's pure sleepless eye. 



XVI. 

Reclining 'gainst a sturdy oak near by, 
Stood Adam Ericsson ; broad shoulder'd he 
And tall, with smooth round face and mild brown eye, 
And brow of thought, and mien of modesty 
That well became his Northern ancestry. 
He taught in Annaville Academy, 
And played the organ with a skill so free, 
That his loved chum, Charles Brenner, truthfully 
Said, " Music was his mission, not Divinity." 

[14] 



XVII. 

" Good evening, Adam Ericsson, — the day 
Has left us with a beauty quite its own." 
Upon the organist's fair face alway 
A smile play'd when he heard the gentle tone 
Of Brenner's voice, by gracious accents known. 
"Good evening, friends," the Norseman quickly saicl,- 
" With scenes and souls like these who could be lone, 
Or mourn the loss of hours forever fled ? " 
And as he frankly spoke, he gently bowed his head. 



XVIII. 

" O young professor," Brenner said, " should not 
Your pliant pupils often thus be taught 
From heaven-lit views, that glimpses of their lot 
Are oft from Nature's book the soonest caught ? " 
" Indeed," said Adam, " 'tis my constant thought 
To seek like hours and hues, so seldom giv'n ; 
Since books with axioms and strict science fraught, 
Although they free the mind by error driv'n, 
Charm not their hearts, nor yield, alas ! one hope of heaven. 



XIX. 

" And more," responded Brenner : " in the young 
The love of beauty and of wonder pleads 
For frequent illustration. Eye and tongue 
With innocent delight proclaim their needs. 
Activity of mind and body feeds 
On well-set views of Nature's varied forms ; 
Her milder phases are of peace the seeds, 
While winds, and waves, and waterfalls and storms 
Arouse the soul whose faith in God's great goodness warms.' 

[15] 



XX. 

Engag'd in cordial converse thus, they join 
The choir assembled in the organ loft ; 
Soon sounds the instrument by touch divine, 
In heavenly harmonies that, changing oft, 
Eeveal the sweet surprises, loud and soft, 
Which sweetly charm the ear and calm the heart. 
listen, while the strain shall quickly waft 
Your soul to starry spheres, where sudden start 
In high accord, strange voices with angelic art. 



XXI. 

'Tis well that in the church the organ be, 
The noblest instrument that man has made 
Wherewith to praise his God befittingly, 
Supporting human voices with its aid. 
Perversion of right usage is the trade 
Of some who touch it with profanity ; 
Defiling Sacred Art which is afraid 
To desecrate God's holy church thereby : 
Not so did Adam Ericsson his gifts apply. 



XXII. 

His opening prelude gave delight to all, 
Because inspired by a motive true ; 
No soul was fuller at its final fall 
Than Marie Brenner's ; and the singers too 
Sat mute, with sweetest joy emotions new, 
Intent upon the player's skill and eye. 
But Marie's reverie was rare to view, 
In that her practis'd ear and brain would try 
To catch the spirit of her master's melody. 

[16] 



XXIII. 

It was unconscious homage to his gift, 
And for his teaching in the school, at home, 
And ever where his mind might seek to lift 
Her thoughts from trifling things, and bid them roam 
In regions where, far from the dross and foam 
Of selfishness, a lovlier life appears ! 
Faith on his castle was the golden dome 
That lit his inner life and banish'd fears. 
Therefore is Marie pleas'd at what she sees and hears. 



XXIV. 

There is no perfect picture without shade, 
And light and beauty stand confess'd thereby ; 
The concords of sweet music without aid 
Of discords would be tame exceedingly. 
Close neighbors to our smiles fierce frowns do vie 
For mastery in the heated rounds of life ; 
Along with gracious words and courtesy 
Come harsh and grating sounds of human strife 
To lover and to maiden — more to man and wife ! 



xxv. 

Sole leader of the opposition, he, 
One black- eyed, curly-haired, audacious man, 
Is Nicholas Kitza, surely sworn to be 
Of general mischief alway in the van. 
Rich and rejective, cruel heart, his plan 
Is shrewdly bold, accompanied by smiles 
Of wicked condescension, deadlier than 
The more transparent rogue's innoxious wiles, 
Because his fulsome flattery wounds while it beguiles. 

[17] 



XXVI. 

Whose eye but Ritza's keenest to detect 
The shyness of the youthful singer's breast ? 
Whose honied words but Ritza's could reflect 
A heart not pleas'd but ever in unrest ? 
"Divine performance ! " quoth he, half in jest, 
To Marie, as the organist then ceas'd, — 
" But grandest instrument of man ne'er blest 
The human soul like woman's voice, increas'd 
To sweet perfection — therefore sing ! — give us a feast ! " 



XXVII. 

" Petition more sincere I might have heard, 
O Nicholas Ritza ! But I will obey, 
If Ericsson accede." The touching word 
Had scarce escaped her lips, when, like a ray 
Of sudden joy through isolated way 
Shone forth the light from Ericsson's brown eye. 
He had not in his heart to say her nay, 
And chose some music of his own to try : 
A psalm of David fill'd with sweet serenity. 

XXVIII. 

" The Lord is merciful and gracious," sung 
In keeping with the psalmist's penitence ; 
The cultur'd voice was heard ; the facile tongue 
Made ev'ry word distinct with confidence ; — 
A canon musical, instinct with sense. 
Parental teaching and preceptor's drill, 
The psalmist's words, her own intelligence, 
All, all combined to give the artistic thrill, 
And shape the perfect rendering to her own will. 

[18] 



XXIX. 

O how and where shall woman fitly praise 
Her Maker for His priceless gifts to her ? 
Shall not her higher, purer powers raise 
In church new joy for each true worshiper? 
Then let the bigot in his rage prefer 
The rude inflections of the untutor'd voice ; 
He will not cause one humble soul to stir 
In cordial feeling with his meaner choice, 
Nor bid the cultur'd mind in happier thoughts rejoice. 



xxx. 

So Brenner thought, rapt, list'ning, while he drew 
True comfort from each word of David's song ; 
So thought the organist with pride as new 
As when, at first, his pupil could prolong 
A phrase of music on her thrilling tongue ; 
So thought the ruthless Ritza, watching near, 
The look of fix'd repose that lasted long 
Upon the faces of the choir, whose clear 
Appreciation of her song gave Marie cheer. 



XXXI. 

" Bravo ! bravissimo ! my Ericsson : 
Take the sincere salute which now I fling 
With a new joy to you ; for surely none 
But Marie Brenner could your music sing 
With a more soulful voice of truest ring. 
You are the new Bellini born to be, 
And Marie is the Garcia who could bring 
New shading to that master's melody." 
'Twas thus the facile Ritza spoke complacently. 

[19] 



XXXII. 

" It was not my design to imitate 
The style of that true son of Art Divine ; 
My taste and study rather more relate 
To older and severer schools ; in fine, 
To Harmony's strict treatment I incline. 
'Twas Marie's skill," said Adam, " which restor'd 
The charm'd and emphasiz'd result, not mine. 
So, Ritza, sing with David's sacred word : 
' My song shall alway of Thy kindness be, Lord.' " 

XXXIII. 

Now Ritza lik'd not Mendelssohn. His tone, 
A tenor true, but little train'd by art, 
By sweetness less than power it was known, 
And gain'd small triumph e'en with Marie's part. 
O slightly touch'd he the capricious heart 
Of man or maiden, though he sang with zeal ; 
The one pronounced him bold, the other smart ; 
No self-abandonment in his appeal, 
While both confess'd his confidence, they fail'd to feel ! 

XXXIV. 

Was Ritza then discomfited ? O no ! 
Although small sympathy was given him ; 
He charg'd the faultless composition so 
With bitter words, and tried to trim 
His ruffl'd ringlets with an air so prim, 
You would have thought him Disraeli at ease, 
Although as lyric artist he was slim ! 
What loss to him if but his person pleas'd ? 
He could not be rebuk'd by taunts, nor yet be teas'd ! 

[20] 



XXXV. 

At length in choral by Sebastian Bach 
The singers join in firm full harmony ; 
To serious souls this is no time to mock 
Their Maker with a dull monotony. 
What ease in all the parts, and yet how free 
From trite progressions flows each melody ; 
A blessed foretaste of the joy to be, — 
Young men and maidens thus becomingly 
Strive fully now to praise their Maker cheerfully. 

XXXYI. 

The youthful choir retired. The lights put out, 
Its members homeward trod their nightly way ; 
To some the exercise brought thoughts devout, 
To other some the occasions of mere play. 
Bitza, inform'd, to Brenner dar'd to say : 
" Dear sir ! I dread to think your hopes are small, 
That future fame or fortune can repay 
Your daughter in her late directed call, 
To study for the Stage, exactor fierce to all." 

XXXVII. 

" I care not for the Stage," said Brenner, " save 
As truly it may show, high-wrought to me 
The Good, the Beautiful and True. When brave 
Stern Virtue reigns triumphant, and I see 
That Yice is punish'd most approvingly ; — 
Why should I doubt that Music in my child 
Will truly, innocently ask a free 
And cordial word upon a maiden mild, 
A friendly criticism upon Art undefil'd ? " 

[21] 



XXXVIII. 

" But time and money," fearless Ritza said, 
" Are call'd for, and the envious ones will sneer ; 
And the voracious critics must be fed. 
The Public, many-headed tyrant near, 
Will think of former fav'rites, and be queer 
In singling out her weaknesses, until 
The town, tenacious of its rights, will fear 
To accord the measure of its secret will : 
Thus may her hopes and yours be cheated of their fill." 

xxxix. 

" Not probable," said Brenner hopefully — 
" At least I will not think so, since I know 
That nothing in the realm of sound can be 
More touching to the heart of man below 
Than woman's trained voice, with words that flow 
In cheery cadence with her mind's best thought. 
It is pure crystal on a flake of snow ; 
Or crimson cloud at sunset fully wrought 
To point us toward a heaven but dimly, faintly sought ! " 



XL. 

These words upon the ear full sweetly fell 
Of Ericsson and Marie, close at hand ; 
Ritza, reveal'd in dubious light, could tell 
Of trials, traitors, hypocrites as bland 
As mild May morning, but who could not stand 
The test of time and trouble — false alway ! 
" Good night ! " said Brenner with calm self-command ; 
" Good night ! " said Marie, lingering like a ray 
Of starlight to the lovers, and "Adieu!" said they. 

[22] 



XLI. 

Now Ericsson and Ritza tramp alone 
Beneath the shining of the silent stars ; 
The tender little toads and crickets own 
In gleesome roundelay of endless bars, 
The gentle gladness of a song which mars 
No present human thought nor human deed. 
But tireless in its tune, it never jars 
The youthful heart that faints not in its need, 
But quickens while it lightens both the lovers' speed. 



XLII. 

" Of Marie Brenner's voice what think you now ? " 
Asked Ritza, hastening on his homeward way ; 
" It is a brilliant voice you will allow," 
Said Ericsson, " and with it many a lay 
Of love and duty she will sing, and play 
With deepest sentiment upon each heart 
Whose ear, and taste, and sympathy shall weigh 
Her gifts in close detail, and ne'er depart 
In judgment of the whole, from Justice crowning Art." 



XLIII. 

But Ritza, heedless of the master's word, 
Still doubted, and repeated in cool strain : 
" And have you firmest faith she will be heard 
With favor by the public, who obtain 
New joy in young hopes blasted, and remain 
The patrons of old pets ? " " Relentless man ! 
Sighed Ericsson, " I pray you to refrain 
From hasty judgment and dissuading ban, 
Until with ardor Marie shall disclose her plan." 

[23] 



XLIV. 

" My pupil has rare gifts that to my mind 
Kank higher than devotion to her art ; 
A word for truth, and filial love as kind 
As ever cheer'd the noblest maiden's heart. 
Her music shall be strengthened at the start 
By traits which reign forever, and rejoice, 
And shall rejoice all audience taking part 
In the glad triumphs of her fresh young voice : 
Remembering which you shall applaud her for her choice/ 



XLV. 

" But Brenner has no wealth wherewith to meet 
The exactions of her training slow and long ; 
His airy castles built in moments sweet, 
Have shorter life than hath her fleetest song. 
And," added Ritza, head and heart both wrong, — 
" His eldest born and weakest of the three, 
Your friend, Charles Brenner, neither wise nor strong, 
Now lingers with a dread infirmity, 
Without one hope for earth or near futurity." 

XLVT. 

" Bitza, you err," said Adam tearfully, 
Charles Brenner is the soul of manly love. 
A bright young brother has he been to me, 
While his sad spirit leads to thoughts above. 
Heaven send the Comforter, Divinest Dove ! 
With bounteous blessings on his father's head ; 
A better man ne'er asked his God to approve 
Whate'er was faithful in the life he led : 
A loving, Christ-like life, of good men known and read." 

[24] 



XLVII. 

Ritza retorted not, but as he turn'd 
Toward home, express'd a weak and faint farewell 
Sullen he sought, while in his breast there burn'd 
Confusing thoughts he could not then dispel, 
To square by right the hopes he could not quell. 
It was a vain endeavor. Train'd to act 
In secret doubt of man, in spiteful spell, 
He car'd not if he either lov'd or lack'd : 
He was a law unto himself, instant in tact ! 



XLVIII. 

No pity in his heart for brother's loss, 
It was that brother's weakness, let him cry ! 
No cheering word for him who bears a cross 
Too heavy — let him bear it patiently ! 
Ah ! mateless man ! a coming hour shall try 
Thine impious pride, and summon thee to speak 
Why thou hast built thine own dread pillory ! 
Why thou consentest still in vain to seek 
For earthly happiness where all is cold and bleak ! 



XLIX. 

Not thus toward home did Ericsson proceed : 
Fill'd with new thoughts of Art and Beauty's glow. 
He thank'd anew his father that his need 
Of early treatment of the high and low 
Was true as good, and thought of long ago. 
Frank to a fault and courteous to all, 
On all a kindly smile would he bestow. 
With conscience clear, while quick at duty's call, 
He went where'er such duty's loyal line might fall. 

[25] 



L. 

He lov'd to see the expanding intellect 
Of younger students brighten'd by new bays ; 
He joy'd to talk with men of mark, erect 
In Art's high temple, 'neath Fame's sunniest rays. 
Seen over all a heavenly hand would raise 
Bright scenes of glory, to his soul the tie 
That binds true hearts in sympathy always, 
Through Harmony's holy, faithful ministry : 
And, link'd with love, longs for an immortality. 



MAI^IB BI^ENNBI^ 

PRIMA DONNA. 



* * * * " Then wilt thou not tie loth 
To leave this paradise, but shalt possess 
A paradise within thee, happier far." 

—John Milton, P. L., Book XII. 



CANTO SECOND. 



</[(> 

y 



fipJOW lies a pale yet steadfast student now, 

Oppress'd by weakness, and borne down by pain ; 
His blue eye lustreless, his clear white brow, 
Sad signs of dread disease, portend the wane 
Of Nature's powers, while man still aids in vain. 
Where is thy youthful fire, young Brenner, where 
The full fruition of thy college reign ? 
What though thy laurel wreath were well to wear, 
Thou shouldst have sooner paus'd, thy failing form to spare. 

[26] 



II. 

"Wrapt in the lore of the revered Past, 
With high ideal of the Present's need, 
The student shatter'd, found himself at last 
Too poorly furnish'd for the Future's deed. 
Preceptor, parent, pupil, all agreed 
A sound mind in a body sound should be ; 
But youthful brain long forced to exceed 
Its healthful equilibrium, shall see 
A drear decay, bent body, sad sterility ! 



in. 

It was a summer afternoon. The wind 
Blew softly toward the patient's pleasant room ; 
He look'd upon the river smooth to find 
A blessed emblem of the heavenly bloom 
He might enjoy through faith. Could he assume 
The gladd'ning glory of a higher state ? 
O thought of comfort and sweet scene to illume 
The long, last lingering of his final fate ! 
A Christian crowning of a life of love, not hate. 



IV. 

But doubts like demons cross'd his burning brain : 
" Why should I, mother, suffer slow decay 
For sins of ancestry ? Are not my pain 
And agony the penalty alway 

For my own sin ? " " They are, my son. To-day 
You suffer for yourself. But in the line 
Of life and accident of birth I may 
Engraft my fathers' sins as truly mine, 
And think God's law most human, and yet most divine." 

[27] 



" Repentance for my own sacl sin I feel," 
Said Charles, "but shall my forced tears fast flow 
For sins of the long Past ? Shall my appeal 
For mercy back to Eve's temptation go, 
And take in sins I can or cannot know ? " 
" But how escape ? " the tender mother said, 
" The curse is on us all — the primal woe — 
All who are by God's blessed bounty fed, 
He saves the soul, but leaves this body dark and dead." 



VI. 

Now Margaret Brenner and young Ericsson 
Appear ; the sister said : " Dear Charles, a friend." 
" Reviewing the old themes ? Fights fought and won 
'Gainst sin and Satan ? " said Adam. " I lend," 
Said Charles, " small ear to any words which tend 
To set forth abstract sin ; but thoughts of mine 
On my forefathers' sins I cannot send 
Or banish to oblivion, or twine 
"With faintest ray of hope or happiness to shine." 



VII. 

" The justice of my God in sending me, 
"With feeble form into this whirling world, 
I question not. It is not hard to see 
The obvious cause in wisdom fully furl'd, 
Although the tempter oft his arrows huii'd 
And humbled me. My days and nights I gave 
To study, that new wealth might be impeaii'd 
In my mind's mint, that I might rightly save 
My reason for my faith when near'd the narrow grave." 

[28] 



VIII. 

" But when the sins of my forefathers lie 
In dim, and dread, bewildering array ; 
When through varieties of birth I try 
My race, and face the curse in every way, — 
How reconcile God's goodness with the day 
Of Last Account ? Can my poor lonely pain 
Avail aught to disturb the surer stay 
Of measures meant to wash out older stain ? 
Can my good Maker slay me for my fathers' gain ? " 



IX. 

" Far be it from Him ! " said Ericsson. " To doubt 
His goodness is to doubt your life. The earth 
And all created things might be shut out, — 
God's goodness still would be. Our later birth 
Is but the sign of man's eternal worth 
In His high view. Our souls, His living breath, 
Repose in bliss, and leave but dreary dearth 
For harass'd hopes and desolating death ; 
But live by faith in Heav'n's truth, our Saviour saith." 



" And more seems clear. Our known forefathers' sins 
One man's despair, another's joy of life ; 
The child's few days, while other long life wins ; 
One mind clear-eyed, another craz'd with strife ; 
And all the world with wrong and folly rife : 
These are the well-defm'd inquietudes 
Of sin and our low state. The sharpen'd knife 
Of reason, and the eye of faith in moods 
Of heav'n-born power shall scatter them in myriad broods." 

[29] 



XI. 

" If Satan bid you curse your God and die, 
Job-like still trust in Him, even though He slay ; 
If Science seek to know the reason why 
You still believe — bid Nature's wearier way 
And Science speed ; but God's eternal ray 
Of light and love, of beauty, justice crown'd 
With goodness and with power, shall still display 
His right to hold the second causes found 
In all creation, to His perfect will are bound." 



XII. 

" Go to the garden of Gethsemane ; 
Go to the cross" — "O friend!" said Charles, "forbear; 
I am a wretched man, and would not be 
More miserable : my offences wear 
Upon my spirit with a cruel care. 
Since God spar'd not the just for the unjust, 
How can the unjust live ? And will He spare 
My wand'ring soul from the unconscious dust, 
If in His blessed promises I place my trust ? " 



XIII. 

"A thousand times, beloved brother, aye! 
Pour out again thy penitential moan ; 
Thy God, thy Saviour hears thy filial cry, 
And will not crush thee in thy grief alone. 
Now minist'ring angels watch thee as their own, 
Elect of God, and candidate for heaven ; 
The Everlasting Arms are round thee thrown ; 
Thine Elder Brother death's dark door hath riven, 
And through Him endless immortality is given." 

[30] 



XIV. 

So spake the ardent Adam. Charles, resign'd, 
A moment motionless, then calmly spoke : 
" Where are the youthful hopes that came to bind 
My earlier tasks with manhood's heavier yoke ? 
How can I dare to wish for or invoke 
The aid of Heaven on manhood's later plans ? 
Or how rejoice my father's heart of oak, 
Or lighten labor for my mother's hands ? 
But God's high will be done, and not poor prostrate man's.' 



xv. 

His mother turn'd to hide a starting tear, 
His sister bathed his burning brow again ; 
While Ericsson stood watching like a seer, 
And sooth'd the sufferer with a deep amen. 
" Where is my father ? " And that father then 
Just gain'd the garden gate, with Marie near. 
They had been walking, and with thankful ken 
Survey'd each beauty of the river clear, 
And weigh'd the chances of a new and strange career. 



XVI. 

Who though those chances seem not near at hand. 
And grave dark doubts and hindrances appear ? 
A loving father's will and heart shall stand 
Protecting till is won the guerdon dear. 
A mother pleads against the task with fear ; 
A sister trembles at the public gaze ; 
A failing brother's protest fills the ear, 
And hints at danger in the drama's ways : 
But father, daughter plann'd for brighter, happier days. 

[31] 



XVII. 

Retiring to the music-room, the four 
Leave Charles and Marg'ret, and they urge a claim. 
Now Adam Ericsson essays once more 
To guard his pupil and her work from blame. 
" The higher forms of art alway the same, 
Reveal to me unbroken beauty's line ; 
To me the Greek can father all the fame 
Of numbering vibrations with the Nine, 
Whereof all later harmony is the sounding sign." 



XVIII. 

" Chaldean lore, Egyptian mystery, 
Assyrian grandeur and Phoenician zeal, 
Found in Hellenic hand the cunning key 
Which lock'd these treasures in one common weal, 
And bade all nature join Apollo's peal. 
In Pyramid, in Parthenon, in all 
The eye can see, ear hear, or heart can feel, 
A perfect concord reign'd, which seem'd to fall 
Like tones from Memnon's mouth at early morning call." 



XIX. 

" Then in the church a higher plane was found, 
From Jubal down to Miriam ; — stretching thence, 
To Deborah and Hannah, and the crown'd 
And daring David. But the change, immense 
From outward to the deeper inward sense ! 
From visible to the invisible : 
When Christian souls in prisons gave offence, 
By singing of deliverance from hell 
And man's devices through God's mighty miracle ! " 

[32] 



XX. 

" In caves and dens the Spirit calm'd each heart 
With fullest foretaste of a heav'n begun ; 
The cross, the pyre, the bloody ax, the smart 
Of persecutions direr than which none 
The world hath ever seen, were cast upon 
God's chosen ones. But mid the murderous roar 
Of fierce and clashing combatants, the sun 
Of faith shone clearly on their ebbing gore, 
And led them shouting joy unto the Heavenly Shore." 



XXI. 

" O true fulfillment of the Saviour's word ! 
O last pure act of pious constancy ! 
Shall kings still dally when the call is heard 
That lifts their thought toward God's infinity ? 
Hark ! 'tis a sound of Christian victory ! 
A Constantine, a Theodosius seen 
With numerous and rich array, will be 
The champions of the hated Nazarene ! 
Lord ! let them on Thy heavenly power forever lean." 



XXII. 

" See near and far the Christian spire and dome, 
Symbolic window and the marble nave : 
Hear from aloft a chant of heavenly home, 
Ambrosian-ton'd and prophet-voic'd to save. 
Sad soul, receive the gift thy Maker gave, 
' And all that is within thee bless His name.' 
He will not leave thee in the silent grave, 
But send His angel with the fond acclaim : 
Hold fast the life for which thy sorrowing Saviour came.' " 

[33] 



XXIII. 

" Along the centuries that perennial word 
Cheer'd harrow'd human hearts unceasingly ; 
In church, at home, and ever where was heard 
The voice of prayer and praise, it left them free 
To stand and plead for Gospel liberty. 
With chant and choral none might dare defer 
To march and shield full faithfully, 
From Paynim power the holy sepulchre, 
Each one for Jesu's sake a willing worshiper." 



XXIV. 

" The peace and order which the Christian drew 
From secret study of his Master's will, 
Arous'd alway a holier hope to do 
Far more in His high honor, to fulfill 
An earlier promise, made with youthful thrill, 
To consecrate the whole of life to him. 
A Eaphael limn'd ; an Angelo to instill 
A love of heav'nly forms, charg'd to the brim 
Fair beauty's urn, while Palestrina roll'd his hymn." 



xxv. 

" While sounds that hymn, see ! one from Erfurt flies 
To spread its ringing radiance o'er his land ; 
Behold a Bach, whose technic finger ties 
The hand to chords that shall forever stand ! 
The imperial Handel with supreme command 
Now towers above the late and earlier one ; 
Dear father Haydn, and Mozart with wand 
Of magic point to weird Beethoven, lone 
And mysterious, near the master Mendelssohn." 

r 34i 



XXVI. 

" It is the grand procession of Tone-Kings, 
Whose music charms the cultur'd Christian ear: 
Strict music wedded to wise word which brings 
Soul comfort for the afflicted one to hear." 
And Adam paus'd. His retrospect sincere 
Brought clear conviction to each musing mind. 
Elias Brenner ever did revere 
The immortal masters ; and he fain would find 
A song to soothe a saclden'd son, in doubt confm'd. 



XXVII. 

Then Adam found the " Hear ye Israel," 
From the " Elijah," which his pupil sang ; 
With rare intent and energy did dwell 
On each succeeding phrase, until it rang 
As though a cherub might on seraph hang, 
To seek admission through the heav'nly gate 
Swift to the solace then the singer sprang — 
" Be not afraid ;" and from his low estate 
A brother breath'd his gratitude with sigh sedate. 



XXVIII. 

Once more a father ask'd for sympathy 
And prolongation of the genial hour ; 
His daughter, glad to give her ministry 
Of love, sang with a fresh and new-born power, 
" I know that my Kedeemer liveth :" — flower 
Of Handel pure and fragrant evermore. 
How like a calm and gracious evening shower 
Fell drops of melody in varied store, 
That left each list'ner with a full heart to adore. 

[351 



XXIX. 

" Thou art the Way, the Truth, the Life,"— a hymn 
In which all join with conscious penitence, 
Portends the evening's close, when twilight dim 
Shuts out the sunset's mild magnificence. 
The list'ning student, haply with a sense 
Of growing hopes, but torturing, burning pain, 
Prays for full faith and larger innocence ; 
His father, one with him in heart and brain, 
Gives outward utterance to his soul-felt needs again. 



xxx. 

" Lord God most merciful, and yet most true ! 
Regard with loving eye Thy children here ; 
Let not the world or Satan snatch the due 
Thy rightful Name demands. In every sphere 
Thou sendest blessings without number, ere 
Thy creatures know their deep significance ; 
Lead us to think and act that with a clear 
Firm heart we feel thy holy countenance 
Reviving our weak powers to new allegiance." 



XXXI. 

" Peace to a mother's warm fidelity! 
Peace to my daughters' duteous life of love ! 
Peace, Heavenly Father, in adversity, 
To him who hopes for blissful life above ; 
Spare him, if Thou be willing, till he prove 
A faithful servant in Thy holy way : 
And on our dearest friend, where'er he move, 
A special blessing wilt Thou hear me say : 
For our Redeemer's sake, God bless us all, we pray. 

[36] 



XXXII. 

That one most precious evening pass'd too soon, 
Yet not without the Spirit's touch of fire, 
Which flam'd forever as a priceless boon 
In souls enliven'd by the same desire. 
The morning brought a stronger will for higher 
And steadier purpose in each earthly task ; 
An unseen power which bade them all aspire 
To vict'ries which they had not dar'd to ask : 
No more they walk in darkness, living light to mask. 

XXXIII. 

The loving Adam bade them all farewell ; 
His field of duty lay 'mid other scenes ; 
By study only could he hope to dwell 
Securely where the Master call'd for means 
And place for worship, on which largely leans 
The Church. Faith without works is void and lost, 
And barren emptiness most surely weans 
The child of God from effort at large cost. 
He must acquirements make to win the sad sin-toss'd. 

xxxiv. 

While to the Sacred Word he thirsting bends 
In fullest force his best thoughts willingly ; 
His apt art-scholar, Marie Brenner, lends 
To Music all her soul would dare to be. 
" My cherish'd master, when you bid me see 
A holier beauty than in lovelorn lays 
Pervading heavenly harmony, — then free 
From youth's first thraldom, I would spend my days 
Impersonating this blest truth to human gaze." 

[37] 



XXXV. 



" There may be those who doubt my new resolve, 
There may come lovers who will seek my hand ; 
But trusty Time my secret will evolve, 
And leave me happy in my self-command. 
Let railers wait, and suitors fond demand 
No greater notice than civility, 
Should I ascend no higher than to land 
'Mid those who foster faint ability, — 
Let the deserv'd reproach fall ever upon me." 



xxxvi. 



" My father's brother at the capital, 
"With ample wealth my future training bears : 
I go to-morrow, at this cheering call, 
Awaiting all his generous heart declares. 
But wheresoe'er I go, whatever cares 
May come, thine oft-repeated words shall be 
Like mercy music fill'd with golden airs 
Of gracious condescension unto me, 
Seal'd with a never-ending gratitude to thee." 



xxx VII. 

They parted. Ah ! in each vicissitude 
Of life, what comfort can a mortal know 
More dear than young hearts' precious plenitude 
Of thanks they ne'er forget, but swiftly show ? 
It is the teacher's chief delight below, 
It is the parent's joy by night and day ; 
The man of God by this in strength shall grow ; 
All angels smile when thankful children pray : 
And God himself is pleas'd with grateful souls alway. 

[38] 



XXXVIII. 

Transported to the city's noisy throng, 
In social station easy and secure : 
With a mix'd multitude oft borne along, 
Serene a lyric artiste may endure, 
When fortified by conscience white and pure. 
There is a strength in steady labor too, 
Which Satan seeing, stands a lame pursuer ; 
Repuls'd, unnerv'd in all he dares to do, 
He shrinks, then leaves with Belial and his callous crew. 



xxxix. 

Tito Marcello, from the seven-hill'd Eome, 
Maestro, leader, player soon ador'd, 
The school'd soprano as he did the home 
Of melody, his blest Italia. Stor'd 
With vivid mem'ries, charged with many a word 
Of true tradition in his mother tongue, 
He bade his scholar freshening rills to ford, 
And loftier hights to climb, until among 
The flexile-voiced queens of song she daily sung. 



XL. 

A rapid run from methods strict to free ; 
A sudden gathering in of richest gems ; 
A language laden with the melody 
That links the West with Orient diadems. 
A subtle scent of beauty which o'erwhelms 
The youthful heart with dreams of ecstasy ; 
Yet deems prosaic all that heart condemns, 
And owns the Present all the legacy 
That tropic time, and sky, and story guarantee. 



XLI. 

At every turn a beaded balustrade, 
And higher up a tower and parapet ; 
Beneath, a stream hid by the trees in shade, 
Whereon the stately swan ofttimes was set. 
Green groves not far, wherein a tangled net 
Of foliage harbor' d birds black, red and green, 
Whose song and plumage charm'd, like the coquette 
Who changes carriage, voice and eye to mean 
All that a lingering look, or word, or hand can glean. 



XLII. 

Yet in the church this foreign master saw 
The cause, the working, and the end of things ; 
That Father, Son and Spirit ever draw 
The hearts of men to Heav'n as on the wings 
Of angels, 'mid whose willing welcome rings 
A rapturous joy o'er sinners penitent ; 
Our Lady magnifies her Lord, and sings 
Of her blest state through mercy mildly lent ; 
And saints of every age live through a Saviour sent. 

XLIII. 

High Art its holiest efforts here achieved ; 
And poet, painter, sculptor sought to wed 
His work to Christian truth, and he believed 
No manlier motive could prevail instead. 
And touching Music, the full fountain-head 
Of all its inspiration, all its tune 
Arose within the church, and thence it spread 
By minstrel, maid, and harlequin, till soon 
They sang in mysteries, and clanc'd a rigadoon ! 

[40] 



XXIV. 

Whatever in nature wins by charging views ; 
Whate'er in art may captivate the eye ; 
Whate'er in fact or fancy one may choose 
To bring into poetic unity ; 
Heroic action, and the baffled lie ; 
Contending parties and triumphant truth; 
Malignant motive and warm charity ; 
The retrospect of age, the hope of youth ; 
All these and more may Music blend in rightful ruth. 



XLV. 

The curious critic sees no sense in this ; 
With him the pious anchorite agrees ; 
This one would rob the soul of many a bliss, 
While that lives but to suffer, not to please. 
The true conservative alone decrees 
That wise variety in life is sweet ; 
The bending branches of the tallest trees 
Present no two alike, yet make a meet 
And mantling mellow shade in fierce midsummer's heat. 



XLVI. 

Why should not mark'd and ever varying tone 
Convey to human ear what passion shows ? 
The twittering songsters of the torrid zone 
Make merry music where the lion goes. 
The tireless brooklet laughs as thunder flows 
Through resonant air pierc'd by electric force ; 
From cricket cry to elephantine throes, 
All nature heaves with new and strong resource- 
Pan's prototype of band and vocal intercourse. 

[41] 



XLVII. 

Precursors of the Opera ! Start not, 
Uncompromising Puritan ! Your child 
Will ask for new delights without the blot 
Of growing sympathy for sin and wild 
Delusions ; for young hearts were ne'er beguil'd 
By truthful pictures of our mortal span : 
Else were the Bible through defiance styl'd 
A harmful book, and under saintly ban ; 
Since man's fell ill is seen on every page we scan. 



XLYIII. 

So Tito talk'd, and conquer'd every doubt 
Of mother, brother, sister and of friend ; 
His pupil dreaded not the coming out, 
But hop'd and dream'd success unto the end. 
Excelling in a part which well would blend 
The tragic with the social element, 
She chose the impassion'd Norma, to contend 
With agonizing tone against the intent 
Of heartless man to ensnare and blast the innocent. 



XLIX. 

" A bold but fitting choice, and calling deep, ; 
Observed Marcello, " for sustain'd repose ; 
The Druid priestess with a soulful sweep, 
Appeals for mercy 'mid increasing woes. 
Who would not weep, and seek to interpose 
A sheltering arm for injur'd woman's breast, 
In manly effort against all her foes ? 
And lend a hope that yet in lasting rest, 
She might enjoy a happy home in regions blest?" 

[42] 



" You have the face, you have the form, and more, 
You have the voice and clear intelligence, 
Whereby the noble Norma, quick to pour 
Her piteous plaints, would charm each living sense, 
And change our mercy to love's redolence. 
I have the Pollio, in whose eager eye 
There lurks a dark and matchless impudence ; 
Whose tenor cleaves the distance like the cry 
Of Cossack or of Zouave fir'd with battle high !" 



LI. 

" A Eussian Hebrew, void of faith, once train'd 
This Pollio in all sinuous, wicked ways, 
Wherein no present God nor Christ was gain'd, 
But all was thoughtless, voiceless of his praise. 
Born out of time, and place, and proper days, 
This offspring of the patriarch Abraham, 
Accepted Nature in her every phase, 
And counted Revelation but a sham ; 
While in his daily walk he seem'd a guileless lamb." 



LII. 

" A winning wretch of atheistic drift 
Whose words had wreck'd his pupil in despair, 
But that I snatch'd him from the current swift 
That would have borne him to the vortex where 
In poison'd pools of pleasure he would dare 
To end a life all profitless and brief. 
To-morrow you shall see with what an air 
He'll sing, and walk, and talk, and act the chief 
Tenore at your coming debut with a bold belief." 

[43] 



Lin. 

The morrow came, and with it flying hours 
All glist'ning with a silver-lined light ; 
Marcello surely mov'd, and girt with powers 
Unusual, gave direction with delight. 
" Now Norma toward her Pollio I invite 
To closer sympathy : " — scarce had he said, 
When " Eitza ! " " Marie ! " in astonish'd sight, 
Burst from their lips, by anxious accents sped, 
Transfixing each as by a secret, sudden dread. 



LIV. 

A hurried greeting ! Then baton in hand, 
Marcello led his skill'd interpreters, 
The orchestra, — a chosen, brilliant band. 
In vivid union with each act that stirs 
The men of strings, and wood, and trumpeters, 
Till all seem'd charg'd with trembling harmonies, 
That cheer'd the heart with hope's swift couriers, 
And made it long for joys which quickly please, 
As eye, hand, lip and tongue the nimble note would seize. 



LV. 

One strain of mingled dignity and awe, 
That might have marshal'd Moses toward the land 
Of promise from the scorn'd Egyptian law, 
Fell on the ear. And the Arch Druid's hand 
Was rais'd toward heav'n, as with a look all bland 
He call'd for curses on the Roman name. 
Now fiery Pollio with disgrace would brand 
Barbaric hosts through quick defeat and shame ; 
While o'er unlawful love he burn'd perpetual flame. 

[44] 



LVI. 

A deft recitative, — and Norma sings 
The Casta Diva, melody divine ! 
Marcello, with a glance at score, now clings 
In tearful sympathy with every line. 
The players catch her welcome warbling to enshrine 
With all dear memories of youth and home — 
As if the lily and the eglantine 
Should join to perfume life where'er they roam, 
Or by the mountain side, or by the salt sea foam. 



LVII. 

O youth ! O Love ! O Melody ! O Life ! 
With what an endless chain you bind us here ! 
Yet are ye angels 'mid Earth's surging strife, 
Who stand as heav'nly sentinels to cheer. 
A father's early life shall re-appear 
In the young being who now sees his face ; 
Whose voice, and smile, and kindness with each year 
Shall of his former trials leave no trace, 
But color his last days with hues of heavn'ly grace. 



LVIII. 

The light of beauty, and the soft repose 
Of graceful women prais'd by cultur'd men, 
Pervaded the fill'd house ; and serried vows 
Of dainty dilletanti, list'ning then, 
Vouchsaf'd their choice applause impulsive, when 
" A new creation of the Tragic Muse ! " 
These critics cried ; and straightway with the pen 
Announc'd a matchless Norma as the news 
Which morning, myriad-tongued, to millions must diffuse. 

[45] 



LIX. 



And Ritza's Pollio ! Importunate, 
And proud as Caesar at the Rubicon ; 
He urg'd an Adalgisa to her fate 
With all the ardor of Napoleon. 
Not brave Miltiades at Marathon 
Withstood the charges of the Persian host 
With a more kingly front than did this son 
Of Mercury the threat of Norma, most 
Repentant and seraphic at her dying post. 



LX. 

And Marie Brenner sings in other lands, 
And other roles essays successfully ; 
Where King or Kaiser, Queen or Prince commands, 
Alike she wins her place enchantingly ; 
With regal honors clad, come cordially 
The gold, the jewels, infinite largess, 
From genial gentry and nobility ; 
Until, returning her fair home to bless, 
There seems no limit to her earthly happiness. 



LXI. 

Time brings slight change in quiet Annaville, 
Save to increase the father's old estate, 
Which, chang'd, improv'd through Marie's generous will, 
Grows far more brightly than at earlier date. 
Still runs the river gladly to the sea ; 
The birds in Spring by larger numbers mate, 
And sing their songs with fuller, merrier glee, 
While o'er the villa yet the elm waves gracefully. 

[46] 



LXII. 

But sister Margaret wedded Ericsson, 
The man of God and rector now ordain'd ; 
And Brenner smiled with fresh delight upon 
A bright-eyed darling boy who daily reign'd 
A king in his strong arms, where peace remain'd. 
A mother sigh'd, although her eldest born 
Kedeem'd and happy, paradise had gained ; 
And Marie whisper'd of the lone hearts torn 
Which shall be gladden'd at the resurrection morn. 



:'0^m- : 






[47] 



JULIAN AND GONSTANTIUS, A. D. 3& 

Cantata for Men's Voices, composed for the Mendelssohn Union. 



Aria: Julian. 

^EE the Python flee Apollo, 

Crush'd beneath a god's advances ! 
See Arion fleetly follow 

Where a dolphin seaward glances ! 
Music then was heaven-directed, 

Soothing everything to gladness, 
In a day when men affected 

By their love, forgot their sadness. 
Where are now the deeds of daring 

Hercules and Hector render'd, 
Who, for love and beauty caring, 

Ne'er to man or beast surrender'd ? 
Even Joshua's words revived us, 

Even David sang of glory ; 
Hebrew, Greek, yea both contrived us 

Scenes for many a song and story. 

Chorus. 

Hail ! Hail ! Aurora ! 
Thou heav'nly light that revealeth 

Charm'd rays to Flora, 
And ev'ry green plant that appealeth : 

Eye of Creation ! 
To all other eyes the fore-runner ! 

[51] 



Take our oblation, 
As the flower, the zephyr that won her. 

Hail ! Hail ! Diana ! 
In forest and field ever reigning ; 

Fertile Savanna, 
And mountain and covert regaining. 

Clymene calling, 
And thy Polydora attending ; 

Heav'n's music falling, 
All Nature her gladness is lending ! 

Aria : Julian : and Chorus. 

Mars, Mars forever 
Invincible hosts is commanding ! 

War endeth never, 
While Eight from the Wrong is demanding 

Trophies of vict'ry, 
And vows that shall never be broken : 

Gods ! then be ye nigh, 
Till Mars his last word shall have spoken. 

Becit: Constantius. 

O Julian ! I shall not measure swords, 
Nor take the chance of failure in the chase, 
Nor challenge higher love for nature's forms 
With thee, who art so near the plenitude 
Of intellect and culture. I rather breathe 
A simple prayer for the blest cause of peace ; 
For the sweet hope of life beyond the grave ; 
And for the dearer thought of seeing Him, 
My Lord and Master whom I serve. Gaunt war 
And all its cruel crimes may cease for aye ; 
The din of noisy pleasure may decline, 
And only milder, chaster joys remain. 

[52 J 



Aria: Constantius. 

Father ! the soft voice I heard 
Was heaven unto me ; 

My erring heart, then quickly stirr'd 
New homage paid to Thee. 

1 cannot think, I cannot feel, 
Without Thy constant aid ; 

My very breath is but Thy seal 

Of life upon me laid. 
I came not here by mine own will, 

I shall not hence take leave, 
Without Thy Spirit near me still, 

To solace and relieve. 



Aria : Constantius : and Chorus. 

O Jesu ! Thou hast promis'd me 
The life that shall not cease ; 

That promise shall my soul set free, 
And bring unending peace. 



■°-H<l. 



[53] 



PPPTOIP | 



ri, 



CHRISTMAS TIDE, 



HE day is dark and in the East 
A leaden mist appears ; 
Outside a wail, inside a feast 
QJ That shines 'mid hopes and fears. 



A 



II. 



In bidding last farewell to all 
The old quick passing hours, 

Stern Nature grimly bends to call 
Our rudest, fiercest powers. 



in. 

Sparse tufts of grass do still remind 
Of Summer's golden joys ; 

While falls the rain, the cutting wind 
The poor, pale leaf destroys. 

IV. 

These mournful messengers rehearse 

In sombre monotone, 
The burthen of my simple verse — 

The year, the year is gone ! 

[57] 



Y. 



God of my life ! leave me not 
In darkness, doubt and fear ; 

Without Thy light, the dearest lot 
Were only madness here. 



VI. 



The years may pass, the seasons roll 

In unremember'd flight ; 
While Nature echoes to the Soul 

My wanderings from Thy sight. 



VII. 



The day is dark, and in the East 

The shades of evening fall ; 
And gloomier clouds have now increas'd 

The approaching night's black pall. 



VIII. 



One ray alone shines clearly through 
The gathering mists of years ; 

One Star pales not. but ever new 
Dispels my darkest fears. 



IX. 



O soaring Intellect ! O Pride ! 

Look at that Living Star, 
And in its heavenly light confide, 

To lead thee home from far. 



[58; 



And thou, less subtle child of song, 
Come with me to the place 

Where love-attuned souls prolong 
The angelic words of grace : 



XL 



" Glory to God on high, on earth 
Be peace, good will toward men ;' 

They sing it with a heavenly mirth, 
Till the long aisles ring again ! 



XII. 



The only harmony that falls 

From voices tuned above ; 
It cheers to Heav'n ! From Heav'n it calls ! 

It speaks Emanuel's love ! 



XIII. 



God of my life ! How sweet the joy 
That crowns this gift of Thine ! 

Thou hast not left me to destroy 
My only hope divine. 



XIV. 



Cold is bleak Nature's drear despair, 
The wind, the cloud, the rain ; 

But in my home, what light is there 
To soften every pain. 



[59] 



XV. 



A loving wife ; two gleesome boys ; 

A daughter fair and mild ; 
A baby, centre of all joys, — 

" His mother's darling child." 



XVI. 

A cheerful fire ; a simple board ; 

With trees, and toys, and books ; 
The very air is deftly stor'd 

With fairy thoughts and looks. 

XVII. 

The fairy thoughts of pleasant youth, 
The looks of lov'd ones gone ; 

The echoes of their tones of truth 
Come sounding, one by one. 

XVIII. 

And so the Christmas Tide is past, 
" Glory to God on high ! " 

O let the sacred anthem last, 
And Christ be ever nigh. 



•4* 



[601 



- --) & - - J - 



Smsi 



/UL/-iy\Jo 



THE TWO ANGELS. 



TtT is a quiet winter clay, 

The fleecy snow is failing ; 

y I wander up the whiten'd way, 
Upon a sister calling. 



II. 



I gaze upon a picture fair, 
A boy and girl are sleeping ; 

A mother looks upon the pair. 
And turns in sorrow weeping. 



in. 



Two guardian angels standing near 
The lov'd ones, now attend them ; 

With wings and forms that know no fear 
Forever to defend them. 



IV. 



O Prophet- Artist ! By what power 
Hast thou this scene presented ? 

And is she dead, thy first sweet flower ? 
And hath thy heart consented ? 



[63] 



V. 



Hast seen thy darling breathe his last, 
And felt thy prayer avail'd not ? 

Hast mark'd where death again hath pass'd. 
And yet hast thou bewail'd not ? 



VI. 



O dearly lov'd ! From earth's alarms, 
Twin angels snatch'd before us ! 

Blest Saviour ! Take them to Thine arms, 
And reign Thou ever o'er us. 



vlv# "<IX° 4 fMi/ 
4 i 



[W J 



ppei ip miwum. 



SUNSET AT BBLLBYUB, 



LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 



Qfl ! in the western skies appear 

The purple tints of Summer's dying day ; 

The emblazon'd clouds are hovering near 
To catch one parting, sadd'ning, ling'ring ray. 



ii. 



Clear is the blue hills' airy hight, 
The lake serene, and its reflected aisle ; 

What mirror'd beauty ! Soothing sight, 
Like infant revelling in its mother's smile ! 



in. 



Slily the Saranac slips in, 
Afar where plays the summer breeze the while ; 

Careering ripples die within 
The deeper current of the lone Lamoille. 



[67] 



IV. 



These placid waters heard the roar 
Of battle in the fiercer days gone by ; 

But lake and river nevermore 
May echo with war's yell and musketry. 



Type of the Christian's peaceful heart, 
O quiet lake of brightness beautiful ! 

Though cares may ruffle, friends depart, 
Its God will calm and make it dutiful. 



VI. 

Pure, living streams of mercy glide 
Where stagnant seem the darksome depths below 

Glad Hope sits on the silver tide 
That flows in heav'n's light, heav'n's rest to know. 






<r 



'Ps 7 dM 



68] 



fees m f §©¥tBiY-§ii 



SIF^ES OP 'SEVENTY-SIX, 



gHILE yet Columbia's hardy sons 
Dwelt 'neath a foreign yoke, — 
^j^^ Voices were heard, the high-soul'd ones 
For freedom boldly spoke : 




ii. 



" Yain is the menace ! " Thus they cry- 
" Of England's lordly hand ; 

We've breath' d the vow to live or die 
For God and Freedom's land." 



in. 



Unskill'd in arms, the daring few 
Are rushing to the foe ! 

Already vict'ry's in their view, 
And British hosts laid low ! 

[VI] 



IV. 



The shout has gone from Lexington, 
And Bunker Hill replies ! 

The South has sent her Washington, 
And all the land defies ! 



'Tis done ! Th' achievement glorious ! 

The Declaration's signed ! 
Columbia's sons victorious 

A home and freedom find. 



VI. 

Brave men ! Your hearts were strong in God, 

Your faith, it lasted long ; 
Else writhing 'neath oppression's rod, 

We still should feel its wrong. 



VII. 

Degenerate sons of noble sires ! 

How callous have we grown ! 
Our hearts have lost their wonted fires,- 

They're like the sculptured stone 



VIII. 

That stands above our fathers' tomb 



The tale is merely read ; 
While all around seems but the room 
And dwelling of the dead. 



[72] 



IX. 



Tims had I mus'd in youthful years, 
When Traffic rul'd the hour ; 

Baptiz'd anew, the Nation's tears 
Give signs of purer power. 



Power that shall blast in burning rays 
The men who dare but mix 

One act of treason with our days, 
O Sons of 'Seventy-six! 



^¥<® 




[73] 



FREEMEN, F^ISE ! YOUI^ BRETHREN GALL, 



Solo. 

IjggKEEMEN, rise ! your brethren call, 
&=|$ Call from cot and palace hall ; 
^P Nerve your arm and cheer your heart, 
Heart that scorns a traitor's part ! 
Dare to breathe the prayer of faith, 
Faith in God who reigns and saith : 
" Trust in me, and I will save." 
Father ! save from rebel's grave ! 



Chorus. 

Save our country ! Save us all ! 
All who heed the loyal call ; 
North and South, and East and West, 
Save where'er Thy name is blest. 

[77] 



II. 

Solo. 

Strong hath been our love of gain. 
Gain that goads and leaves its stain ; 
Gold and goods and precious land 
Thou hast dealt with lavish hand. 
Father ! we have thought of these, 
These, and not Thy high decrees ! 
Perish then each earthly plan, 
Keep us true to Thee and man. 

Chorus : Save our country ! &c. 



in. 

Solo. 

Take our gold, yea ! take our life 
In all high and holy strife ; 
We have naught that is not Thine, 
Soul, and Body, Life Divine ! 
Hold each struggling arm this hour, 
Cheer each soul with Thine own power, 
Power that holds immensity ! 
Father ! bid us look to Thee. 

Chorus: Save our country ! &c. 



"^ {' > 7 r ~^"' ■ -^ * eT" 



[78] 



m. 






O DAY OP LOVING MEMORIES 

Song for Decoration Dai/. 



DAY of loving memories ! 
S^x When hearts that mourn again unite 
£ In tenderness to strengthen ties 
Made holier by Time's rapid flight ! 
Years cannot change the sweet perfume 
Of lily, rose, forget-me-not ! 
The soldier's tomb shall therefore bloom 
With flowers to mark the sacred spot. 



if. 



O brave, dear souls whose early fate 
Secur'd our homes from with'ring blight ; 
Shall not the sav'd and grateful State 
Kemember long thy bloody fight ? 
Again bring flow'rs, bring sweetest now'rs 
To grace their green and honor' d graves ; 
Eest one day in the year's quick hours 
Where lilies bloom and cypress waves. 

[81] 



HI. 

When we are old, and times have chang'd, 
Our children shall the prayer renew, 
That on this day shall be arrang'd 
The stately line and floral view ; 
The line of living souls who feel 
That Heav'n is watching by their side ; 
While fragrant incense shall reveal 
The patriot's love for those who died. 



5? (? 6 i '?§. 




I (s> e 



[82] 



ON HEADING FOUr? VOCALISTS 

DRESS'D IN CONTINENTAL COSTUME. 



<7jpHEY err who say our fathers are forgot ; 

Their names, their sacrifice, their noble deeds ; 

A. Where Liberty first planted deathless seeds, 
(uj Some hearts there are yet mark and love the spot. 
Whether at Lexington he falter' d not, 

Or bled, the martyr'd one, at Bunker Hill, 

Be sure, in after time his name shall fill 
Each minstrel's heart with joy, in every clime. 
Lo ! trimly clad in garb of those great days, 
They sing the song that prompts my humble praise. 

Yaliant young singers ! Ye recall the time 
When my brave grandsire march'd, and fought, and won ! 

Sing on ! sing often of that fiery prime 
When angels guarded our blest Washington. 



[85] 



AD F^AI^EM. 



|EAK Charles ! In whose blue eye there shineth yet 
The merry twinkle that our father had, 
Which lit our home through fortune good or bad 
Step back with me through paths where oft are set 
The forms and faces we can ne'er forget. 

I see them all ! O faithful memory ! 
Death cannot snatch thy constant guard o'er me ; 
The years pass by ; in tears and sad regret 

Through thee I summon all, and they appear ! 
We pass the beaver dam, the fragrant pines, 

And leave the cool, still woodland for the clear ; 
O'er fields of waving wheat and rye there shines 

The clearest summer sun of all the year ; 
And bird, and bee, and stream sing through our lines ! 



[89] 



ia«i 



mo KATIE, 

A Little Orphan. 



ATIE, winsome, motherless 



Sweet songs could sing ; 



*~*^?^ Sought a kiss, a soft caress, 
For everything ! 



II. 



Every motion full of grace, 

And every smile ; 
All her soul shone in her face 

In the meanwhile. 



in. 



In a quiet little grave 

Katie's asleep ; 
Where the fragrant cedars wave, 

And vigils keep. 



[93] 



IV. 



Like a flower that buds in June 

For quick decay ; 
Buds and blossoms, and too soon 

Passes away ! 



v. 



Thus her short and sorrowing days 

Sped full of truth ; 
Could not death have made delays, 

And left her youth ? 



VI. 



Father ! Let Thy will be done, 

Take her to Thee ; 
And when my short race is run, 

Remember me ! 




[94] 



-UF)1LDF;0 



s^s&i 






CHILDHOOD MEMORIES 



i. 

REMEMBER the words and tune 

Of one sweet ballad that my mother used to sing, 
Looking up at the chaste full moon, 

While I sat 'neath the elm tree near the limpid spring 
It was in the glad time of June, 
And the evening pass'd sadly soon. 



II. 

I remember, that same elm tree 
Once held an artless singer whose clear ringing trill, 

In the morn at the hour of three, 
So pierc'd my soul by his silvery whippowil, 

That I whisper'd rejoicingly, 

God's angel is gladdening me ! 



III. 

I remember the grand old drum, 
So stoutly play'd through the village by blithesome John. 

When the Fourth of July had come ; 
How quickly cours'd the young blood of my heart, as on 

And afar I march'd, like some 

Undaunted General Thomas Thumb ! 

[97] 



IV. 

I remember the full voic'cl choir, 
Where Uncle William play'd the organ sweet and clear, 

And I turn'd me round to admire 
The lady in chinchilla hat, who rous'd my fear 

By her flashing eyes, while rising higher, 

She sang with a celestial fire. 



v. 

I remember the Easter Morn, 
When look'd the man of God so lovingly on all, 

That new and brighter faith was born, — 
To man's sad soul a perpetual festival ! 

And the choir sang anew that morn, 

Christ from the grave and death is torn. 



VI. 

I remember the evening psalm, 
W'hen the circle f orm'd around the pleasant fireside ; 

And I dwelt in the holy calm 
Which I hop'd, alas ! would forever there abide, 

Yet like a precious, healing balm, 

Comes back the thought of that evening psalm. 




t98] 



IF? s MEfflSRY 



OF 



mnp^mm it §»? 



ODE 



SUNG IN MEMORY OF 



WASHINGTON M. SMITH, 

Principal of Grammar School No. 35, New York. 



Solo. 



Hip RE we part, sad tribute pay 
To the treasure! past, 



When in life's sweet younger day 
Our good lot was cast 
"With the lov'd one, in these halls, 
Where his name yet gently falls, 
Where his voice still seems to say — 
"Dear disciple, come away." 

( 'horns. 

Come, while yet the fire of youth 
Glistens in each eye ; 

Smile upon all heavenly truth, 
Truth that ne'er shall die. 

[ioi] 



n. 
Solo. 

Brother student, let the call 

Touch each glowing heart ; 
Let the still voice say to all, 

Act a nobler part. 
Pray, like him, for higher life, 
Strive, like him, with holier strife: — 
Hark ! his voice still seems to say — 
" Dear disciple, come away." 

Chorus. 

Come, while yet the fire of youth 
Glistens in each eye ; 

Smile upon all heavenly truth, 
Truth that ne'er shall die. 




£102] 




^aj©; 



WHAN MY rpBAGHBI^ IS NO ME. 



Becited by 
MISS IDA AUSTIN. 



SEARCH tlie annals of the past, 
I Scan its leaders, first to last ; 
Patriarch, prophet, bard or sage, 
King or Czar in any age : 
Not one man among them all, 
Whom in vision I recall, 
May aspire, or dare to be 
What my teacher is to me. 



11. 



I revere the pious man, 
Keep his counsel if I can ; 
Walking now in wisdom's ways, 
Thus I trust to pass my days. 
Czar, and King, and President 
Doubtless for our good are sent 
But in none of them I see 
What my teacher is to me. 



[105] 



m. 



The affection of my friend 
Wins me as with love I bend 
Toward the heart that's ever true, 
Praising all I say or do. 
But that friend with kindly thought, 
Loves me well, but chides me not ; 
Say, then, can that friend e'er be 
"What my teacher is to me ? 



IV. 

E'en a father's, mother's love, 
Hailing as from heaven above, 
May be blind to my desert, 
Or may flatter to my hurt. 
Shall I love them less for this ? 
No ! I answer with a kiss. 
How, then, can my parents be 
All my teacher is to me ? 



Only one Exemplar ripe 
Seems my teacher's prototype ; 
He avIio sees my mind and heart, 
Who can truth and grace impart. 
In such heavenly light I'll go, 
Faithful in my work below ; 
That to others I may be 
What my teacher is to me. 

[106] 



VI. 

Come then weal, or come then woe, 
Naught but gratitude I'll show ; 
Blessings on the Hand Divine 
Guiding me to learning's shrine ; 
Blessings on the men who stand 
To guard that shrine throughout the land ; 
May they bless all who may be 
What my teacher is to me. 




f ior 1 



K^ETpnix 



^ATTEI^S^IIili, 



; £|| WAS morning, near high peak, and the ascent, 
Hf Five couples strong, (John Taylor in the seat 
As guide) betray'd no thought of swift retreat, 
j&^ But sang still upward with a glad intent ! 

The way zigzagging, with vast bowlders rent, 
Keveal'd new hills, bright streams, and fresh warm fields 
Whereon sleek cattle found what Nature yields 
In pastures sweet. Essaying, next we went 

On foot toward caves and fissures so forlorn, 
They seem'd to harbor ghouls and Calibans, 

Where Prosperos and Mirandas ne'er were born, 
Nor root nor branch show'd sign of human hands. 

A perpendicular pile, all bald and shorn 
Of leaf and limb, before us sternly stands ! 



II. 

Now at the south a sunny path appears, 

By which the sheep and shepherd wind their way ; 
And we, like lost sheep that have gone astray, 

Pass this Hill Difficulty without fears. 

A short hour more, and what salutes our ears ? 
One long ecstatic shout ! We gain the hight 
Where voice of triumph cheers the sunlit sight ! 
[mi 



The deep abyss in front the greeting hears, 
And answers with long echoes distant far; 

A holier breath of freedom nerves each soul,' 

As young eyes compass where blue mountains are, 

And see an eagle hastening to its goal. 

Nor cloud nor dimness might the valley mar 

As toward its home God bids the river roll. 



cM 









ni2] 




1st 



f©wp. 



*m 



UPON UTHE DELAWARE. 



;OME court the noisy Lackawax, 
Where heavy bowlders are ; 
But give to me more frequently 
The quiet Delaware. 



II. 



See where yon trains of dusty coal 
Come thundering from afar ; 

But Erie couples all, and flies 
Along the Delaware. 



in. 



The land of Perm is good for coal, 
And coal burns everywhere ; 

But enterprise and cash from York 
Still seek the Delaware. 



IV 



I stood upon the Hill of Snakes, 
But snakes I saw not there ; 

Nor boats upon the Lackawax, 
They were on Delaware. 



[115] 



v. 



Aunt Jane lives not on Lackawax, 
Yon could not find her there ; 

She lives a calm contented life 
Upon the Delaware. 



VI. 

And Laura with the laughing eyes, 

(A fascinating pair!) 
The Lackawaxen's banks would shun, 

And die on Delaware. 



VII. 

And father Holbert, how could he 
Resist his stopping where 

The Lackawaxen lost its voice 
Amid the Delaware. 



VIII. 

The greater must include the less, 
An axiom true and fair ; 

Therefore the Lackawaxen lost, 
Is found in Delaware. 



~^SS^i 



o-Sg> 



[116] 



JP0D©© imm 



A HINDOO ARTIST. 



" I passed a number of houses illuminated for marriage festivities, and from one of 
them came the sound of a flute more shrill and piercing, I have no doubt, than any other 
flute in the world. Its tones were so intensely shrill as to become tangible. They were 
shot out of the windows like arrows, and whenever any one struck you, it was followed by 
a keen sense of pain. They flew whistling down the street, rattling against the walls, 
transfixing all civilized ears, and torturing all susceptible hearts. I shudder, even now, to 
think of the smarts I endured while passing that house.''— Bayard Taylor's Letters. 



I. 



flROULOU 



^g> Now hide your mouth, estopp'd forever ! 
C And you, 

' Siede and Eben ! now or never 
Give us your last trills. For sad vexation, 
Grim despair, yea, utter desolation 
Shall everlastingly betide the man 
That lightly blows 'gainst him of Hindostan. 



ii. 

In style 
Of faultless embouchitre, but one, 

John Kyle ! 
Might ever dare such race to run. 
But look you ! Where are e'en his dancing eyes, 
And curving red lips, cause of many sighs ! 
Frighten'd to paleness by this copper man, 
Yermilion-lipp'd, dark-eyed of Hindostan ! 

[119] 



III. 

To rouse 
Me, slumbering, hark ! a steam-car whistles ! 

And cows, 
With eyes dilate, rush into thistles ! 
But pierc'd by shriller tones, oh ! shriller far 
Than steam-blown whistles, or the clang of war 
'Sdeath ! I am shot by tireless heathen man, 
Ear-missil'd through by him of Hindostan ! 



IV. 

Bombay, 
Seringapatam, and Ganges' shore, 

And they 
In warm Ceylon, may evermore 
Rejoice in thee, great artist! Barnum now 
Shall mourn for Christendom, that such as thou 
Shouldst waste thy strength, invulnerable man ! 
Upon the desert air of Hindostan. 







*^^Ewz?im+*- 



[120] 



: l ,- T"V#> 



tp ^on&no- 



THE SOPRANO. 



The soprano voice of woman is the perennial ripple on the sea of melody." 

— William Henry Fry. 



NVELOP'D in white, with her light hanging hair, 
This heroine stepp'd as though treading on air ; 
Her face was as fair as the lily in bloom, 
Her shining blue eye glanc'd on all in the room. 
The company listen'd, — the band broke suspense, 
And out gush'd the tones with a ravishing sense. 
O lov'd voice of woman ! In silence soon lost, 
Revive each sad soul with a new Pentecost ! 



II. 

Two dark dreamy eyes that in rest have sweet spells 

To transfix or to charm, like the gay gazelle's ; 

That new singer shone, in her moments of might, 

Like an Angel of Goodness presiding o'er Right. 

Each run and each trill, like the Light in the North, 

Would blend earth with heav'n as her soul sent them forth. 

Each cadence so brilliant, or soft in repose, 

That you sang with the stars, or dwelt with the rose. 

[123] 



III. 

Then forth came the queenly, mature in her art, 

Majestic in form, and confiding in heart ; 

Her face the clear mirror of pure inner thought — 

Her life had been toilsome, yet bravely she fought. 

How easy doth lie the fresh laurel on one 

Who, conquering all schools, is still fetter'd by none ; 

AVho can reign Queen of Song, yet most graciously, 

Reign as wife and as mother right royally ! 



IV. 

Though blonde or brunette, and though young or mature, 

Sing on, ye sweet singers, if but to assure 

The cold and the proud ones of earth that there lies 

In your beautiful art the work of the skies. 

I envy you nothing, I simply rejoice 

That I live to be near you, and hear your voice : 

Yoice of woman ! of heaven ! In silence soon lost, 

Revive each sad soul with a new Pentecost ! 




ri24] 



¥ 



w fill 
nff- 



iAJ^lL/I^ 



mo AI^IBIi. 



S^EAB little sprite ! 

h\ Of form so light, 



Say, whither dost thou slily rove ? 
"• Dost fear to come, 

And be like some, 
Sweet being cherish'd, wing'd with love ? 



II. 

Ah ! why away ? 

Come, come and stay, 
And be my star of destiny ; 

I'll play with thee, 

I'll laugh with thee, 
So thou art near, what's care to me ? 



in. 

And Ariel said : 

" Near Flora's bed 
I live, and fly blue skies among ; 

I'm known afar, 

In earth and air, 
I'm sought by all, by old and young." 

[127] 



, iv. 

" And would you dwell 

Near hill or dell, 
Or by the gentle rivulet's side ? 

With heavenward eye, 

Bid trouble fly, 
With faith and hope to heaven we'll glide. 








*^ 



[138] 



Wm 






: lxm 



WEI^B I THE MOANING. 

From the German. 




ERE I the morning, 
Tremblingly dawning, 
Brightly adorning 
Sweet eyes of thine ; 
Softly upraising 
Thine eyes and gazing, 
I should be praising 
Smiles blent with mine. 



II. 

Were I the noonday, 

Warm rays should soon play 

On thy lips alway 

Love's litany ! 
Picturing ever 
My soul's endeavor, 
Treasur'd forever : 

"Remember me." 

[131] 



III. 

Were I the twilight, 
Wedded to starlight, 
Close into soft night 

My bird should sing 
In thy lone dwelling, 
Tenderly telling, 
With a charm'd quelling, 

" Forever cling." 

IV. 

Were I the night, love, 
Kissing my dear dove, 
Far in bliss above 

I'd dream of thee ; 
And I should gain soon 
A precious life boon ; 
And sing in true tune, 

" Dream thou of me. 




[132] 




3B?r»ii 




IPO JOSEPHINE. 

From the German of F. Matthison. 



f 



THINK of thee, 
When tunefully 
The nightingales 
In groves sing tales. 
"When think' st of me ? 



II. 



I think of thee, 
Where soothingly 

Iu pale twilight 

Gush fountains bright. 
Where think'st of me ? 



III. 

I think of thee, 

As tremblingly 

My heart's sweet pain 
Sends tears like rain. 

How think'st of me ? 

[135] 



IV. 

O think of me 

Till joyfully 

We meet above ! 

Till then, my love. 
I'll think of thee. 






msmk 



L136] 



TT( fwTr 

rstt mi 



f\ 



n®mm 



HIBLL MB, DBAI^BSTF 



t.ELL me, clearest, 
^ When thou nearest 
it My lmmble name, 

' Unknown to fame, — 

My lot would'st share ? Thou dost not fear 
A home obscure, 
If but secure 
The voice of love alone to hear. 



II. 



Tell me, dearest, 
When thou hearest 
Of rank and gold, 
And titles old ; 
Dost wish to share in all their care ? 
Content to know 
Of gaudy show, 
While love may never cheer thee there ! 

[ 130 ] 



III. 

Tell me, dearest, 
When thou nearest 
Of dazzling eyes, 
Where beauty lies, 
Their secret sighs, say, could'st thou bear ? 
Ah ! when 'tis told, 
They soon grow cold, — 
Their beauty gone — can love be there ? 



IV. 



Tell me, dearest, 
When thou nearest 
My humble name, 
Unknown to fame, — 
My lot would'st share ? Thou dost not fear 
A home obscure, 
If but secure 
The voice of love alone to hear. 




[140] 



JFHE CHOSEN ONE, 

Suabian Volksmelodie. 



fpi OME, come, come, my dearest ; come, come, come, my dearest; 
Come, come, come, and sit thee by my side, love ; 
A I have so gladly thought of thee, I suffer ! 

QJ My dearest, come, come, come, and sit thee by my side, love. 
O so sweet and fair ! 
None with thee compare ; 
O with me remain, 
Till death part us twain. 

My dearest, come, come, come, &c. 



ii. 

Look, look, look, my dearest ; look, look, look, my dearest ; 
Look, look, look within mine eyes, mine eyes, love ; 
There canst thou see, my love, bright pictures shining ; 
My dearest, look, look, look within, within my eyes, love : 
Look not low nor high, 
But give me thine eye ; 
Come to my dear home, 
Thou wilt never roam. 

My dearest, look, look, look, <fcc. 

[143] 



III. 

Then, then, then, my dearest ; then, then, then, my dearest ; 
Then, then thou must give, must give thy plighted vow ; 
Since without thee my life is ever lonely ; 
My dearest, then, then thou must give, must give thy plighted vow: 
If thou give it not, 
War shall be my lot ! 
Deign my life to save 
From an early grave. 

My dearest, then, then, then, <fcc. 




[H4] 



n 



B * 



C) r 1 - H, 



4M a. J ^^< 



WITH THEE. 

From the Prince of Caucasus. 



A 



AR out in measureless air, 

Borne on the bright sea waves ; 
Along by vale and mountain, 

Where piercing storm wind raves 
Far from my native land, 
Dwelling on distant strand 
I'll go with thee, 
With thee ! 



II. 

Along by dreadful ice zones, 
So stiff, so cold and bleak ! 
Or on the arid desert, 

Where no tree shades the weak : 
Where, threat'ning in each wind, 
Death and the grave I find, 
Still, still with thee, 
With thee ! 

[147] 



III. 

Or wert tliou in dark prison. 
I ne'er could stay behind ; 
For only in thy presence 
Can I true freedom find. 
All danger I will meet, 
E'en fiercest death I'll greet, 
Still, still with thee, 
With thee ! 



, 



C 3 f 









r 148 1 



fl Hit T TTfp 



AD PILIAM. 



'OW this is to Mary, 
^ Secretive and wary, 
^^^ Yet tender and true ; 
"Who carries, in fashion, 
A heart full of passion, 
Deter inin'd to dash on 
Without me or you ! 



II. 

Can man e'er deceive her 
By vows to believe her 

His darling alone ? 
Let sober discretion 
Force him to confession, 
And candid concession, — 

She is not his own. 

[ 151 1 



in. 

Why should a young maiden 
So early be laden 

With dismal foretaste 
Of days which are dawning, 
The light of whose morning 
May cause an adorning 

Of mourning in haste ? 



IV. 



Enjoy the sweet blessing, 
No time less distressing, 

Of youthful surcease ; 
Survey the location, 
Fill up the vacation 
'Twixt maid and wife's station 

With mental increase. 



The plastic young muscle, 
The heart full of bustle, 

An undaunted will, 
Come once to their owner, 
And will not disown her, 
Nor ever bemoan her, 

If exercis'd still. 

[152] 



VI. 



The eye sharp and single, 
The ear quick to tingle 

With changes of tone ; 
Attention, demanding 
A Memory standing 
As umpire, commanding 

The Whole of Life's Own ! 



VII. 

Xantippe capricious, 
Had heart but to wish us 

Perpetual hell ; 
Her spouse bore the burnin{ 
Of fiery words, turning 
In peace, thereby learning 

Forbearance full well. 



VIII. 

Cornelia did better, 
And seriously set her 

Sweet thoughts on her boys ; 
Of high Koman mothers, 
She led all the others, 
Her sons, Gracchian brothers, 

Fulfilling all joys. 

L15S] 



IX. 

But Byron and Goethe, 
And many a pate a — 

Round here and below, 
Forgot the sweet pleasure 
Of purity's leisure, 
And barter'd that treasure 

For leanness and woe. 



x. 



An unbalanced teacher, 
And sometimes, a preacher, 

Might proudly have staid, 
Rejoicing forever, 
If only they never 
Had sighed for endeavor 

Unhappily made. 



XI. 

Then banish your scorning, 
And learn from this warning 

A stray truth or two ; 
Begin right, and stay so, — 
Believe, for I say so, 
And thus will your face O, 

Be lovely and true. 

[154] 



XII. 

A truthful beginning 

Will save from much sinning, 

And scandalous roar ; 
Should Faith sit beside you, 
A host might deride you, 
She straightway would guide you 

To Heav'n's happy shore. 




[155] 



I 



ffi® 



T 



CM 






THE CONFIDENT AMERICAN, 



I WENT a-hunting, hurrying fast 
For facts about the nation ; 
And found for my delight, at last, 
We've beaten all creation ! 
There's not a thing worth naming here, 

We have not in profusion ; 
The very skies, so bright and clear, 
Confirm the curt conclusion. 



ii. 



No skies are brighter, and no hills 

Are higher, and you know it ! 
Green Mountains, White, with rocky rills, 

And Catskill plainly show it. 
The Alleghanies are not tame, 

Our lakes have many a trout in ; 
And fishing parties on the same, 

First catch, then go a-shoutin' ! 

[159] 



III. 



Your nag may travel farther West, 
And goaded still by whip, he 

Shall stand for wonder and for rest, 
And face the Mississippi ; — 
A linked sweetness long drawn out," 
From Pontchartrain to Duluth ; 

Along whose banks men quite devout 
Instruct the freshblown true youth. 



IV. 



A longer river stretcheth up, 

Where Indians fight in fury ; 
Where wolves do howl that bears may sup, 

"While roars the mad Missouri. 
See now what mountains greet your eye ! 

Their summit can you compass ? 
Now, stranger, how is that for high ? 

And will you further stump us ? 



v. 



Come down this slope, and feel the breeze, 

A zephyr of the ocean 
Revives the soul with balms from trees 

Sweet-breath'd like love's own potion. 
Stop not for love, nor linger long 

Amid Pacific airing ; 
The fruits, the vines, the wines, the song 

Shall fire you with new daring. 

[160] 



VI. 



Look to the North ! On yonder peaks 

The snow remaineth ever ; 
While down below, in shining streaks 

The gold recedeth never. 
And silver too comes up to view, 

A big bonanza showing ; 
Can scene so new be shown to you, 

And be like this, worth knowing ? 



VII. 



Away ! Away ! Just once to be 

Where man doth many marry ! 
But tarry not ! You shall not see 

Monogamy miscarry ! 
How can one man sincerely love 

Plurality of women ? 
Unless the Devil fully prove 

His first wife false took him in ! 



VIII. 

A double sin, polygamist ! 

In creed, or in the practice ; 
True woman's faith cannot exist, 

Where such a state the fact is. 
Why not to Turkey quickly flee, 

And keep your private harem ; 
Since Uncle Sam will not agree 

Such horrid rites to bear 'em. 

[161] 



IX. 



The Lone Star shines to beckon us 

Across its plains of grazing ; 
A million cattle reckon us 

As sheep in foolish gazing. 
This sight recalls the early time 

When Abr'ham, Isaac, Jacob, 
And Laban, too, in their sweet prime, 

Their herds and flocks did wake up ! 



x. 



Now where the old plantation pine 

Hings dirges of sad sorrow ; 
And where the proud palm gives no sign 

Of brighter hours to-morrow ; 
I look around and view the land 

Where millions might be feeding ; 
And dare, with Freedom there to stand, 

And cheer their hearts yet bleeding. 



XI. 



I hasten up where people meet 

In cordial congregation ; 
Where Pennsylvania's sons would greet 

The men of every nation. 
Where shall my eyes most love to dwell 

In this grand exposition ? 
'Tis where my countrymen excel 

In friendly recognition. 

[162] 



XII. 



A recognition of all men, 

White, black, or neutral tinted, 
Who try by Art and Learning's ken, 

To rise, though Nature stinted. 
It is the boy who listens well, 

And looks, compares, considers, 
That makes the man who loves to tell 

He left behind all bidders ! 



*h 






u-^j 



[163] 



•- v '"-' 



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WbJ° — , 



I- v 



30 



A SUMMER DAY ON THE HUDSON, 

" Only a Remnant."— Dry Goods Clerk. 



CTULIA ! 

Peculia' : — 

Away, we 're bounding o'er the Hudson's foaming tide ! 

Hoboken ! 

Provokin' : — 
No last view at the Fields Elysian, on the Western side. 

Such fog, my eye ! 

We all did cry, 
And soon the sun above the Eastern shore we spy. 

II. 

That's him I see ! 

How gloriously 
He bids all noisome vapor from the waves depart ! 

And lawn, and glade, 

And palisade, 
In golden tint are pictur'd now to cheer each heart. 

In Tappan Sea, 

Mein Herr Von C. 

Look'd straight at me, 

"Sing! sing!" said he, 
Your heart is glad, the sun is shining gloriously! 

[167] 



III. 

" That nose ! " 
" Whose nose ?" 
Be careful how you treat the good Saint Anthony ; 
He'll play giraffe, 

And cut you quite ; 
And that's not half 
His saintly spite : 
He'll stand invisible, 
And make you risible ; 
And when he's visible, 
His Saintship is able 
To look three ways at once : North, South and 'cross to Point 

[Stony ! 

IV. 

Clear weather now, 

The mountain's brow 
Defin'd in the blue distance now appears afar ; 

The vale between, 

A checker'd scene 
Of many color'd fields and woods displays. There are 

The Katterskill and Sleepy Hollow, 

(I seem Old Diedrich's steps to follow ;) 

Enchanting view ! 

Nor strange, nor new ; 
But ever as I gaze on yonder cloud-topp'd hills, 
All thought of earth forgot, I feel 'tis heav'n that thrills. 



" Come, come away i 
I cannot stay — 
The dinner bell is heard, and through the doors let's tumble 

[168] 



Let go my skirt ! 

Scratch gravel, dirt, 
And get your silver knife and fork without a grumble." 

Tis strange to see 

How curiously 
Those " gemmen " cut and run without a single stumble ; 

While, nothing fearing, 

But persevering, 
Somebody bids you curtly for your tickets fumble. 

Clatter, clatter, 

Knife and platter. 

" See ! you spatter 

Me with fat, or 

Something greasy, — 

Just be easy." 

Munching, crunching, 

Oh ! the punching ! 

"Waiter! here, man, 

This way steer, man, 

Take my plate, man, 

Quick ! don't wait, man ! " 



VI. 

See him vanish ! 
Walking Spanish, 
Bringing chicken : 
Fork I stick in. — 
Ancient victim, 
How I prick'd him ! 
Tried to part him, 
Couldn't start him ! 
" Waiter ! here man, 
'S very queer, man, 

[169] 



Thus to treat me ! 
'S tough ! to cheat me 
Of my dinner : 
This old sinner 
Take away, man, 
Quick, I pray, man ! " 



VII. 



Thus we dash on 

Quite in fashion ; 

Quick succession, 

Much oppression ; 

Steamboat rolling, 

Bell a-tolling ; 

Feeling queerlv, 

Pain'd severely ; 

Get up grumbling, 

Mumbling, stumbling ; 
Scamper up the steamboat staircase, stewing, stinging. 
And — bless the balmy breeze, some comfort tome bringing. 



VIII. 

On upper deck shady 
We sit with the lady- 
Like Julie and Sadie, 

And Thomas is near ; 
That rubicund Thomas, 
Who, plighting his promise, 
Stole suddenly from us 
Maria so dear, — 

While all the while singing his Kathleen Mavourneen ; 

A plague on the spalpeen ! He caus'd us much mournin 

[170] 



IX. 

This bevy of lovers, 
Too soon it discovers 
The parting that hovers 

O'er meetings mundane ; 
The mountains grow bluer, 
Our smiles, they are fewer, 
But sweeter and truer 

As port we shall gain. 



But Julie, the joy of that summer day's sailing, 
Hath pass'd where the River of Life is regaling. 






[171 









«PY 



A MID GENWU^Y MUSICAL SURVEY. 

Jonathan, loquitur 



I. 

^ERY far down East, near the Penobscot, 
And Winnepisseogee, 
There lived a queer old fogy, 
Content with his farm, house and barn. Not 

A spot 
Could surpass the green valley and cot 
Where my governor liv'd. Ah ! you should see 
As did my young eyes, the old elm tree, 
As it shaded the spring 

Which mirror'd my face ; 
You should hear the lark sing, 
As he flew into space ! 
There I slaked my thirst, then climbed the tree, 
That old elm tree, on purpose to see 
The trim built nest, 
A place of rest, 
Which a robin had lined so carefully : 
And all day long, 
A sweet, sad song 
Was poured till I sang respondingly. 

[ 175 3 



. II. 

One summer night, 

The stars shone bright, 
I heard a sound which my soul still hears — 
'Twas a sound that thrill'd with hopes and fears. 

The night was warm, in my tiny bed, 
I lay a-dreaming of nothing ill ; 

When, heaven-attuned, near my head 
Sang a sweet lone bird, a whippowil. 
From that hour I loved all sweet sounds, 
From grave to gay. My heart abounds 
With n full, strange gladness, when I hear 
A light wing'd, feather'd songster near. 

A bobolink quite sets me crazy, 

Singing his buffo songs in ways he 
Deems Lablache might envy ; 
While robins a-mating, as toward the skies 
They sing, are Grisis and Marios in disguise, 

Save their notes they nor sell nor lend ye ! 
But give them outright in most measureless melody, 
Yea ! Making earth glad with mellifluent melody. 



in. 

Those old home scenes ! Forever gone, 
"Voices that sung and eyes that shone. 
The birds, and trees, and evening breeze, 
Smiles and tears of the lov'd ones, — these 
Have left an undying music, writ 
On memory's brightest page, and lit 
With hope's enduring, joyous smile, 
That bids all fear depart the while. 
Long years have pass'd, ah ! need I say 
I have lost the red blush of that early day ? 

[176] 



IV. 

Presto ! now Eastward my Pegasus flies, 

Nor stops till he breathes beneath Italy's skies. 

Just fancy a musical Yankee at Naples, 

Inquiring about all the musical staples. 

I am not so green as to sneer at a Verdi, 

Who caters to tastes of republicans sturdy ; 

Whose melodies made of material brassy, 

Are certain to please a proscribed lad or lassie ; 

Whose Dukes strut and rage in sublime recitation ; 

Whose Kings are the pink of a future creation. 

Such kings, it is certain, have rarely existed, 

Who, like Hugo's, forsooth, can be turned and be twisted 

To act as by mercy, to pardon a rival, 

To court a reformer, and so a revival. 

Such drama reflects but the anticipation 

Of people who pray for a regeneration ! 

They had heard it in " Tell," and had heard it in " Moses,' 

Years before, by Eossini, — who calmly reposes 

On laurels well earn'd, who was bravo'd by Byron, 

But who long sat mute, an Apollo in iron ! 

O Italy ! Italy ! wake from thy slumbers, 

And give us the power of thine ancient numbers. 

v. 

With a bound, 
I am found 
In the city of Boulevards. Palace Parisian, 
Gothic temple and Grecian arrest my glad vision. 
Modern centre of art, 
What a strange, strange part 
Hast thou played in full sight of the Nations' derision ! 
Thy press is in irons, 
And darkness environs 

[177] 



Thy scholars, poets, all, by thy soldiers' decision. 
It were well if thy masters of song could assemble, 
And chant of true freedom till tyrants should tremble ; 
But alas ! even Meyerbeer hates reformation, 
Vide " Prophet " and " Huguenots " for explanation. 
Then Auber is not the love -liberty fellow 
He was, when he wrote his rich " Masaniello." 
Now Halevy goads a lone, wandering Hebrew, 
Till the poor Jew dies, and pray what else could he do ? 
Then I strive to go back, and I stumble on Adam ; 
But his music and plots seem as Poverty had 'em. 
And your Wolff and your Prudent, light-finger'd popinjays, 
Pummel the piano, and prettily hop in ways 

Curious to see ! 

Particularly 

When " grande fantasie " 
Is announced in the bills. But chiefly improvements 

In Beicha, Bertini, 

And old Cherubini 

May be seen. And between ye 
And me, their best music is strict. All their movements 
Have subjects of strength and decision, 
Which they treat with a rare mental vision. 



VI. 

Haste I now to land of Handel, 
Handel, who, like star to candle, 
Shines upon each lone successor, 
Call'd composer or professor. 
Land of Bach and father Haydn, 
Land of many a blue-eyed maiden ; 
Home of Mozart and Beethoven ! 
Scene where soul and nature, woven 

[178] 



In bright beauty gave a Schiller, 
Goethe, and that great fulfiller 
Of more modern Art's prediction, 
Mendelssohn. 

It is no fiction 
Claims my credence, when this nation 
Boasts of this wide reputation. 
Past hath spoken, and the Future 
May do just as much to suit your 

Fancy, ye musicians ; 

But in your positions, 
Judge ye well of masters living. 

Neukomm and Spohr, 

And many more, 
May arrest no stray misgiving. 

One last new man, 

Robert Schumann, 
Asks my regard to those stories misty, 
Peris and Manfreds. Baton in fist, he 
Would Mephistophelianly assist ye ! 
Wagner and Liszt, transcendentally turning 
Transitions and discords, with great show of learning, 
To surprise and befog, 
And otherwise clog : 
Make the human voice writhe like a slave under lashing, 
Till it dies while the strings and the brass do the thrashing ! 



VII, 

Methinks it were wiser to cease this poor wandering, 
And lead a good life of more Christianly pondering. 

Schneider von Wartensee, Marx and Hauptman, 

Teachers profound, 

In your daily round, 

[179] 



Bid the young student " never to doubt, man ! 

God is above us ! 

Christ, — he will love us, 
And the Spirit shall dwell with the lover of truth, man ! 

VIII. 

Now to " merrie England " flies my 
Steed poetic, and my cries high 
Startle some stray cockney players 
Into very nervous weighers 
Of my words. " And what composer 
Have you living ? " 'Tis a poser ! 
They could point to many a dead man, 
But of living not a red man. 
" Matthew Locke and Harry Purcell," 
Thus they say in vex'd rehearsal — 
" Morley, Gibbons, Croft and Blow, sir ; 
Are enough for us to know, sir ; 
Down the stream of time a-sailing, 
Please observe, and stop your railing — 
See arise ' successor ' Boyce, sir, 
Kent, and Clarke ; and Crotch, whose voice, sir, 
Sounds from ' Palestine ' so lofty," — 
" Hush ! a moment, friends," thus soft I 
Chide their memories. " Never lean a 
Bit on these : from Palestrina 
They learn'd all. And as to late days, 
Truth, with an unerring Fate, says, 
Bishop now most justly merits 
Name no child of his inherits. 
Bennett and Macfarren labor, 
But Mendelssohn was too near neighbor. 
Your authors in Opera might have solace, 
But the Celt claims all, — Booke, Balfe and Wallace." 



IX. 



Yet this day I will not forget, 
That in England a price is set 
Upon Handel and Haydn higher far 
Than wealth of Ind, or golden bar 
From any clime. And here convene 
With Lord and Lady, Prince and Queen, 
Those thousand-voiced companies, 
United in grand harmonies, 
In praise of Heav'n and Heav'n's King. 
Organ and harp, and wind and string 
Join in the glorious festival ; 
Noble and peasant, great and small, 
" Hallelujah " sing 
To Heav'n's King, — 
The " Lord of lords," and God above all ! 



Back to my native land ! 

Treading once more the strand 
Sacred to God and to Liberty : 

Shades of my Pilgrim Sires, 

Fled from thy martyr fires, 
Teach me new songs of fidelity. 



XI. 



By the vow I have taken, 
I will not be shaken 
In purpose to mete out strict justice ; 

[181] 



Every shallow pretender, 
Or grosser offender, 
Should, in duty, be punish'd. Thus 'tis 
Fair that all musical pioneers 
Be judged by their fruits in after years. 



Yet be not deceived ! For re-action will come, 
When Art, like Religion, shall here have a home. 






[182] 



SEJ^SCJSM; 



i 



ts 






FAREWELL TO HOME, 



:1p|ABEWELL to the scenes of my childhood forever, 
&^> The fields and the woods where I linger'd entranc'd ; 
The elm and the pine which in youthful endeavor 
I climbed till my eyes on the clear heav'n glanc'd. 



II. 



Farewell to the brook which o'er pebbles so gaily 

Ban laughingly down from the blue mountain spring ; 

Where I knelt with devotion and drank of it daily, 
And now to my mem'ry impulsively bring. 



in. 



Farewell, O farewell to the hearth where my mother 
Smil'd tenderly, sweetly on all who were there ; 

But chiefly on him, as on sister and brother, 
My noble old father, erect in his chair. 



IV. 



O life is not barren, if tears come unbidden, 

In thinking of hearts and of homes which were dear ; 

When life was all sunshine, and nothing was hidden 
Except the temptation to sin and to fear. 



[185] 



tl 9 



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fe Boncs 



ipj 



#f» 



O BRIGHT BE THE THOUGHT. 

Written during Illness. 



BRIGHT be the thought in the night of my sorrow, 
That lights up the hours with sweet hope for the morrow 5 
Let it shine on my soul as the star that of yore 
Pointed prophet-tongued magi to Christ evermore. 



ii. 



The labor of life inharmoniously blending 
"With querulous doubt, to despair is but tending ; 
Shall I barter my faith, and my new song of gladness, 
And heavenly peace, for such toiling in sadness ? 



in. 



'T were worse than fatuity ! Madness impending 
Shall dim my mind's eye, ere my ear be caught lending 
A willing assent to fatal a treason, 
That gives me for Heaven the Goddess of Reason ! 



in. 



Be calm, then, my heart, in the faith that a mother 
First taught, under God : dare I ask for another ? 
Oh no ! for I saw when her last look was given, 
That look full of hope, full of peace and of heaven. 



[189] 



THE YOUNG G^USADEI^. 

After healing a Lecture on Mohaminedanism by liev. F. F. Ellinwood. 



•JpHE Red Cross Knight with men of might 
O'er Paynim hosts may tread ; 
But I will stay, secure each day 
Sustain'd by faith instead. 
I cannot wield in tent or field 

The Cceur de Lion's spear ; 
But I can seek by calling meek 
The Spirit's voice to hear. 
Then willing still, 
With hope I'll fill 
Each day and hour's vocation, 
Till, Lord of life, 
In holy strife, 
Through Thee I win salvation. 



ii. 



The Moslem band in Holy Land 
These eyes may never see ; 

But I can trace my dear Lord's face 
Through dark Gethsemane. 

The cimeter may flash in war, 

[193] 



By mosque and minaret ; 
I only see on Calvary 

My Lord is hanging yet ! 

Dear Lord in heaven, 

If I have striven 
To seek one consolation ; 

O let it be 

That I through Thee, 
May win my soul's salvation. 



m. 



Toward Mecca still the Turk shall kneel, 

On his false prophet call ; 
My heavenly gem Jerusalem 

To me is all in all. 
Sultan or Sheikh I do not like 
Nor houris nor harems ; 
My Mother's Lord and His true Word 
Command my noblest aims. 
Then willing still, 
With hope I'll fill 
Each day and hour's vocation ; 
Till, Lord of life, 
In holy strife, 
Through Thee I win salvation. 



IV. 



The Orient gleams with bloody streams, 
The Russian Czar is there ; 

Let Christian might defend the right, 
And save man everywhere. 

[194] 



But in my round of life is found 

The cross I daily raise ; 
My God ! arouse my soul to vows 
Of penitence and praise. 

While willing still, 

With hope I'll fill 
Each day and hour's vocation ; 

Till, Lord of life, 

In holy strife, 
Through Thee I win salvation. 



i 









195 



171 



mm i™ 



, ippn 



MAI^IA AND THALIA. 




1ABIA ! O supremely blest that name, 

Sweet Virgin Mother of the Only Son 
os^sm Of God ! Could greater joy descend upon 

A woman born, or light a purer flame 
Than the angel's voice which fill'd thy young life's aim ? 

The serpent's head is bruis'd by Him alone, 

Thy Heav'n -Sired Offspring, as in Eden shown, 
And man, through Him, shall rise from sinful shame. 

Thalia ! Virgin Muse ! Be ever near 
To light the way to sweetest nature's shrine ; 

Bid Harmony's joyful voice forever cheer 
All human hearts with charity divine, 

So may our lives be free from deathly fear, 
And with a light celestial ever shine. 



[199 



